Shattered
by Maeverick
Summary: Short vignettes about how the guys would deal with a self-harming MC. TW for self-harm and suicidality. Some chapters will include references to abuse. Spoiler alert for the story and each of the guy's routes as they are posted.
1. Chapter 1 - Yoosung

Author note:

Serious TW for all chapters of this story for self-harm, and some for sex, sexual assault, and suicidality. These are written in the second person about how the guys (and I might write Jaehee as well) would deal with a self-harming MC. Review to let me know your thoughts!

Yoosung knocked on the door to your apartment, with a wide grin on his face, and a bouquet clutched in his hands. He had read somewhere about surprising a cherished girlfriend with flowers on a day that _wasn't_ Valentines Day to increase the surprise, and he couldn't wait to see the dimples on your cheeks.

But you didn't answer the door. You were clearly there - the lights were on and you were environmentally conscious. Yoosung frowned momentarily, but shook it off and used the key you'd given him to let himself in. You had probably just gotten wrapped up in a gaming session (because of course you started playing casually to try to keep up with him after you got tired of losing in Mario Kart), lost in a book, or were listening to music. He set the flowers down on your counter when he didn't see you, and resolved to wake you up with a kiss if you were napping.

But you weren't in the bed. You weren't curled up on the couch. Your laptop was closed, and the book on your dresser lay conspicuously closed. Weird.

"MC," he said quietly, and knocked on the bathroom. "Are you in there?" He heard a soft sob. "Uh - um… are you… dressed? I'm going to open the door, okay?" You didn't answer, so he turned the doorknob. A sliver of light came out of the door, and he could hear you breathing raggedly.

"Are you okay?"  
"No," you whimpered. He steeled his nerves and opened the door. You were in the bathtub. He turned away, his face red. This wasn't his first time seeing you undressed, but there was a vulnerability to seeing someone in a bath that somehow felt violative to him.

"MC, you should have said something if needed privacy."

"Yoosung," you whispered. "Please. I need you." He perked up a little, but something in your voice sounded… wrong. He went back inside, and his already pale face went white with shock when he saw you. You had small cuts on your wrists and mascara was streamed down your face. There was a razor blade on the side of the tub.

"MC!" He practically shouted your name as he ran to you. "What did you do?" His fingers were fumbling in his pocket as he reached for his cell phone, dialing an emergency number.

"It's okay," you said meekly. "I cut across. I won't die."

"How much blood have you lost?" Yoosung had wanted to be a vet to protect Rika's pet. He had never thought of being a doctor until now, when he saw the blood on your skin pooling into the bathtub. A tear ran down his face.

You lifted your arm up, and he noticed what he hadn't before. A million criss-crossing scars.

"How could you do this to yourself? Why?" he was practically shouting. "I thought you were happy." Another tear streamed down your face.

"I didn't want you to see me like this. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must have felt like, after…" You were shaking. "I was just taking a bath, and I wanted to drown. I wanted to let water fill my lungs. So I do this, instead. It's the only way I know to keep myself… afloat. And I always feel that way… I've always felt that way. Yoosung… I couldn't tell you this before. The way you reacted to Rika's mental illness… I didn't want you to be distant from me. I'm depressed. There's a lot you don't know about my past. You made me feel light."

"Dr-drown? You wanted to drown? Please, MC… don't leave me." His voice cracked. "I know I said you were like Rika before… how I wanted you to be like her. But… not like this. Never like this."


	2. Chapter 2 - Zen Part One

Author note: Thanks to anyone who read the first chapter of my story. Please leave a review of this chapter if you have any thoughts or would like me to write more!

Content warning: this chapter deals with anxiety and depression, and talks in-depth about eating disorders.

It took Zen a while to realize that you weren't eating. In fact, he didn't, until someone told him. You had spend over a year coyly cutting up food and texting during meals to prevent people from noticing that you had only had a bite or two before you met him, so you were nearly an expert in hiding. The constant check-ins everyone had sent you through the messenger did feel… strangely prescient, but you had answered smoothly that you had eaten every time, or wittily covered it up with flirting - "I'm hungry for Zen" was a favorite attempt. Although everyone in RFA worried about your well-being, a high functioning eating disorder was a hard problem to spot.

But the hard thing about your problems were to that you couldn't hate them. Not completely. Having an empty stomach hurt, but not as much as seeing cellulite. The perfectionism infiltrated every aspect of your life. It had gotten you a 4.0 in high school, and it had gotten a huge number of guests to the RFA party. And it was the reason why you were attracted to Zen. His rugged individualism and commitment was flawless. You wanted to be like him - un-reliant, free, and utterly devoted to your goals. Unfortunately, after starting college, you had lost sight of them. You were burning with ambition but, when placed with 100 college major options, you had no idea where to focus it, so the flames started crisping you, instead. Homework and going to class, things which once had seemed like stepping stones, now felt like going through the motions, and you didn't care to follow through. It was just too impossible to find your way. In high school, the focus had been clear - getting into a top university, but now, every choice felt like you were cutting off potential for success somewhere else. How could you know, at 18, whether you wanted to work in law or medicine? Go into politics or be a professor? Write award winning articles or do scientific research? Once your tunnel vision shifted away from career goals, it refocused somewhere else, and it was somewhere much worse: your body image. College cafeteria food had caused about 15 pounds of weight gain, and for the first time, you realized you couldn't zip up your dress. So you made a deal with yourself - for every day that you didn't accomplish something, you wouldn't eat. It would solve both problems. Soon, this became a self-fulfilling prophecy. It turns out that being hungry is fucking exhausting. Doing homework after having all of a stalk of celery to eat wasn't possible, but once you had started… you didn't know how to stop. Even after giving up on your resolution, you noticed the puffiness in your stomach when you ate more than 1600 calories.

You would be lying if you said that your relationship didn't make the problem worse. Zen was… physically perfect. He could call you beautiful a million times, but that didn't change the reality that he was a 10 and you felt like a 7 on your good days. Zen was surrounded by women who were prettier, thinner, and more successful than you, and you could never shake the fear that he would one day realize the truth: you weren't good enough for him. The Tripter and media commentary on your relationship was brutal and shared that exact sentiment. His constant reminders of exercising didn't exactly make things better - it just served as another reminder of your own inadequacies. But despite all that, you hadn't been able to be honest with him. Zen was, to say the least, sparkly. He had seen you with rose-colored lenses from the start, and you didn't want to let him see the cold and lonely truth. Unfortunately, the rest of RFA had other ideas.

Jaehee was the first one to notice. Jumin had gone on a trip and actually taken Elizabeth with him, so she snuck away from work to get lunch with you. After an hour of friendly chitchat, your greek salad sat untouched.

"MC… I wasn't going to say anything, but I'm worried about you." Your heart rate sped up.

"What do you mean? Zen and I are happy."

"I'm not talking about him."

"I'm fine," you said with a small, admittedly fake, smile. She sighed.

"I care about you, MC. You can talk to me. Most women have insecurity about their weight at some point in their lives. I have, too." Jaehee was trustworthy, but you had never talked to anyone about this, and you weren't planning on starting. Besides, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. Something about being a celebrity girlfriend bred paranoia.

"There's not much to say. I'm just fine. By the way, Zen was just cast in a new role." You made a not subtle attempt at segue. Jaehee noticed, and her face saddened, but neither of you said anymore on the matter.


	3. Chapter 3 - Zen Part Two

**Author note: This is the second part of the Zen section. Please review if you've read! I've been having trouble writing Zen, so I would love to know if you think I'm doing it right or if there is anything I should change.**

 **Content warning: this chapter deals with anxiety and depression, talks in-depth about eating disorders, and has mild sex mentions.**

"You're not eating," Zen said one day as he sat across from you at the dinner table.

"What do you mean?"

"You make it look like you've eaten, but you don't. I know. Are you… sick? I know that I've said I would never rely on money, but if you have some sort of medical condition, I won't hesitate to ask for help.

"I'm not physically sick."

"… Okay. But that doesn't answer my question."

"It's not any different from you. You count calories to stay fit for your roles."

"I don't have to count calories. God blessed me with this glorious metabolism." You sighed and looked down. He shook his head and resolved to return to the topic at hand. "And neither do you. You are perfect the way you are."

"Did you notice on your own? Or did Jaehee say something to you?" Hurt flickered across his face.

"No, Jaehee didn't say anything to me… You talked to her about this?" The sentiment was clear. As your boyfriend, Zen hoped that you would have come to him first. "If you're comfortable talking to her… that's okay. I just hope I've done enough to make you feel safe, as well."

"Then what made you notice, now?" He looked pained, but picked up his cellphone. He handed it to you, and a brief article was on the screen. The headline read - Zen's New Girlfriend Has Eating Disorder?"

"I didn't believe it at first - I thought it was just normal press harassment… but after I thought about it, I started noticing signs. MC, are you okay?" After a brief perusal, the article was suggesting that you were "deeply in need of help," "had opened up to a friend about being troubled," and that "Celebrities should only date people who can be role models." There was a sneakily taken picture of you leaving the restaurant from when you had eaten with Jaehee having not touched your food, and a detailed list of the meals you had ordered the last few times you and Zen had gone out, with the low calorie counts beside them. You felt a jolt inside of you as you realized what this meant, and your breathing became shallow. This was public. The article mentioned your name. Your family could see this. Future employers. Your professors. Thoughts raced through your mind, and the panic began to seep into your body.

"Zen, I can't breathe," hot tears began to pour down your face, and even the deepest breaths couldn't reach your lungs. He grabbed your hand, looking shocked. He didn't know what to do. "Those reporters… why won't they leave me alone? I can't do anything right. I can't do anything. Zen, I'm useless."

"What? You aren't useless. You said you can't breathe - do I need to call an ambulance?" You could barely hear him. You felt like you were underwater.

"Don't call an ambulance," you practically shouted. "I can just _see_ the headline now. Zen's Girlfriend Too Fragile For Celebrity Relationship?" Zen nodded and seemed to realize that your closing lungs were a psychological problem, rather than a physiological one, but he looked away. With the tears blinding your vision, you couldn't parse the expression on his face, but it looked like shame. "They put my _name_ in there. People will see me. People will know that I'm fucked up. God, how could this happen?! I've tried so hard." What little breath you had was being sucked out of your body with sobs. "My _family_ will know."

"Okay. I won't call anyone. MC, what can I do right now? How do I help you? I'm so sorry that this happened to you. It's my fault - I should have done more to make sure they didn't interfere in our private lives." How could he blame himself for this? It was your fault, you thought, for not being good enough… For attracting negative attention to him. You could smack yourself - you should have been more careful.

"There is so much that is wrong with me Zen. How can I live when I'm hurting you? How could someone like you want to be with someone like me?" You coughed and broke eye contact with him and gasped. Your chest ached, and you felt your vision greying. There was tension in Zen's face, and he stood up abruptly.

"Don't talk that way about my girlfriend."

"I shouldn't _be_ your girlfriend."

"Don't say that." He grabbed your hand, and pulled you up from the table. You could barely stand and stumbled against him. He caught you and slipped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer.

"MC, I want you to listen to me. Please." His voice broke.

"I can't even hear you." Your ears were ringing, and your pounding heart was deafening.

"That's okay," he said. He was shaking a bit, but his voice was warm. "You don't need to hear me. The hallmark of a good actor is being able to express his feelings through every inch of his body, and that's what I'm going to do for you." He tucked a piece of your long hair behind your ear and leaned forward. He kissed your forehead, and your cheek, and, after brushing the tears from under your eyes, you closed them and he kissed your eyelids. Zen took your hand, and put your finger in his mouth, gently sucking it. He trailed his lips up your arm, and his teeth grazed your neck as he sucked on it. Your chest still ached, and your heart still seemed like it was trying to break out of your chest, but you felt small amounts of warmth traveling from him into you as he touched you.

Zen picked you up and carried you to his bed. You were trembling, but the feeling of his chest against your body had begun to chip away at the icy feeling in your lungs. You expected him to start removing clothes - that was your usual routine in the bedroom, but he didn't. Instead, he placed you on the mattress and lay down beside you. Zen pulled your head onto his chest, but you jerked away.

"No. My mascara will ruin your shirt." He shook his head.

"I don't care about my shirt." He pulled you close again and stroked your hair, and then began to rub his hand on your back. His proximity was dulling the pain. You had always been alone during panic attacks, so it had never occurred to you that cuddling was key in helping to calm them.

"I love you," he whispered. "I will always be here. MC, you're my girl."

"I'm not good enough," You sobbed into his chest. Yep. There were definitely going to be makeup stains there.

"MC. I need you. I will do anything for you. Can you hear now?" You nodded. "Listen to my heartbeat. Focus on it." You squeezed your eyes shut. His heartbeat was strong, but it was racing.

"It's going so fast right now. MC, you drive me crazy. You aren't the only one who is scared."

"What do you mean?" He exhaled, and you could feel the deep sigh in his chest.

"My brother… he loved me. He told me I was talented, and then… he changed. The last time I loved someone unconditionally, they left me. But I'm giving my whole heart to you. That's how sure I am that what we have is real. But I am terrified. These feelings scare me. What if you leave, like he did? What if you decide I'm not talented, and that you only like me for my looks? It would destroy me."

"I would never do that."

"I know. That's why I'm trusting you. But when someone treats you like that, those wounds… are hard to overcome. Even after they're mended, the scars are still there. Do you remember what you told me about Jumin? That it was okay to let people help you?" You nodded. "I'm going to say the same to you, MC. You don't have to do this alone. I know that I can't fix you. But please, let me try."

"Why would you want to do that?" He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, but then relaxed.

"I love you. I will tell you I love you a million times a day. Every second. Every moment. When I act, I think of you. When I am on-stage, if I'm kissing someone else, I always pretend it is you, because the amount that I adore you is the most genuine feeling that I have ever experienced. Every monologue, I am speaking to you. In every song, I pour my out heart for you. What can I do to make you believe me?"

"The problem is not that I don't believe you. I don't believe in myself."

"MC, I promise I will worship every part of you until that changes."

"But what if it can't? Won't you get sick of me?"

"No. Even if you are always scared, my feelings for you will never change. I know that your problems with eating aren't about me. But I will tickle your cute tummy if it is flat or if it isn't. I will kiss your thighs if they have cellulite, or if they don't. And the wolf inside of me won't be able to stop from grabbing your perfect ass no matter how much you weigh."

"Oh my god." You couldn't keep from smiling and a laugh bubbled through your chest.

"You are beautiful, sexy, and gorgeous. The way you look makes my heart beat so quickly that I can barely stand it, and you will still be my super-attractive girlfriend if you eat. So please, have some food. Because what I care about most is making sure that you are healthy and strong. What is inside your brilliant mind is what matters more than anything. Besides, eating and giving yourself more energy will just increase your stamina," he said with a wink. "And I'm always in support of anything which does that." This response was far better than any you could have imagined, and you finally felt your body relax, melting into him. But there was still a feeling in the pit of your stomach which wouldn't go away - the article had still been posted.

"Zen?" I asked in a small voice. "What can I do about that article?"

"Oh, I'm going to call Jumin immediately."

"Why?"

"Are you interested in a lawsuit? I think even the threat of it could make them take it down. I'll never forgive them for that… I'm yanking their press credential at every event of mine in the future. But let's not think about that right now. Will you let me try to help you?"

"Yes." Zen was right. He couldn't fix your eating disorder, but maybe, just maybe, with his help, it would be easier, because you wouldn't have to deal with it alone.


	4. Chapter 4 - Jumin Part One

**Author Note:** It's been a while since I updated, but I was really struggling with writing Jaehee's chapter and lacking inspiration - it's been forever since I played her route and I couldn't really find the write angle for why her MC would be unhappy or how. She seemed to the most stable and strong out of all the MC's to me. After being stuck for a while, I eventually just decided to skip ahead to Jumin. Thanks to all who have favorited or followed in the mean time! TW in this chapter for references to suicide - they are more explicit than they have been so far in the story.

* * *

 _"I didn't raise you to be a gold digger."_ Your phone was on the bedside table, and you glanced over at it, still feeling resentful. It didn't matter that she was wrong, that you would love Jumin if he were homeless - the words your mother had said, even though false, were piercing holes in your heart. Each time she sliced at you, it was a reminder of wounds past. Your skin never got any scar tissue - it was still paper thin and had never truly healed. So every stab re-opened all of the places you had been hurt before. This was no exception. The pain started as a headache, but forced itself through hot tears onto your face. Your hands were bleeding from the pressure of your fingernails, and shockwaves of sorrow were crashing across your back, like waves, threatening to pull you under.

 _"How do I know? You aren't actually capable of love. And you aren't lovable. This must be about money. You should be ashamed of yourself."_ How many times had you been told this as a child? How many times had you reached for a hug to be slapped away, pushed down, or struck. You needed to be honest with yourself. This was more than a threat at this point. There were rocks tied to your feet, and you had no buoy. You were drowning. A glance at the clock did you no good. It would be a day before Jumin would return home, and this was far too much to bear. You needed his arms around you and his teeth in your skin - now. Since that wasn't going to happen, something else would be necessary to shut down the pain, or things might become seriously dangerous. It had been a mistake to ask Jumin to build you a balcony. It had started as a wish to watch the city lights fly by and to feel summer air on your skin, but had evolved into a dark and decrepit place where you stood when things hurt, teasing yourself with promises that if things became overwhelming, you didn't have to stay. You smacked yourself on your stomach, hard, stinging the sensitive skin, to try to gain a level of control. It did not succeed. The tempest in your mind was quickly spiraling out of control, and you were possessed. The choices were ceasing to be your own. You had to do something to shut out the blackness. Guilt and regret stung at your mind as you opened the lockbox in your dresser, grasping the bottle in your hand.

 _"He'll throw you out when you stop being pretty and find someone new."_ Wrong. This couldn't be true. Jumin could have anyone, including people far more beautiful, even now. He loved you because of your mind, your heart, and the silver webs of words you spun for him, reminding him at every turn that you would always be there. He told you that he could loop his tangled threads through your straight ones. It was no longer a tangled ball of yarn - knit together, you were a warm blanket, your love wrapped around you to shield you from the world. When you were together, at least. You would always love him. But that didn't stop the creeping uncertainty you felt whenever a gorgeous client stepped a little too close. Jumin never hesitated to push them away, but what if he didn't? This wasn't a lack of trust in your husband. It was a lack of belief in yourself. You paced into to guest room and opened the bottle, pouring three pills into your hand. This was three times the healthy dose. It wouldn't be enough to kill you, but it would quiet your mind. You could only hope that when you awoke, it would be dull enough to keep you safe.

 _"No man would ever want to stay with someone broken."_ This was the penultimate fear - that your panic attacks and trauma episodes, if discovered, would prove to be too much. Too burdensome, and you would be alone. Again. You couldn't shake the anxiety that when he realized your own string was tangled, and the blanket messy, rather than neatly purled, h e would cut ties. So every time that things got too bad, rather than opening up to him, you looked elsewhere. You had tried to stop, so many times, since you had moved in with Jumin. The act of self-sedation was risky for more than one reason - there were the obvious health risks, but more frightening was what it would do to him if he found out. The pills had larger implications - if Jumin found out about that, he would realize what you had been hiding: all of the mental health issues, the trauma, the flashbacks to your past. He would realize the real reason for the scars on your body, and understand that you weren't actually just a really eager submissive with an overzealous, dominant ex-boyfriend. The lie had made him cringe and you chuckle darkly. You knew the scars bothered him. He liked to believe he was the only person who had ever touched you, but the impact was minimal compared to the explosive anger and pain he would face when he realized that you had been a victim of abuse. You shook your head, trying to jump out of your thoughts. He wouldn't be home for a day. He would never know. In the kitchen, you poured a glass of white wine, and returned to the guest bedroom, locking yourself inside. Although no one would come in, the illusion of security and privacy was a step towards calming your pounding heart. You set your phone on the bedside how much time had passed while you were out was critical to ensuring that you could continue to do this safely in the future.

 _"Don't come crawling back to me when he leaves you with nothing."_ No, Mother. You would never. Without Jumin, you had alternatives, like the pills which were slowly dissolving in your sweaty palm. You lay on the bed and took a sip of the wine. It seemed wasteful, wrong, to use something so expensive and beautiful for this purpose, but the preservation of French wine was at the bottom of your priority list. You took a deep breath and swallowed the white tablets in your hand. You were fortunate this time - you didn't gag, and barely tasted the bitterness on your tongue. You finished the glass and lay back on the bed. As the edges of your world began to darken, you couldn't decide what to feel. Every time you did this, it felt like a betrayal, but you couldn't resist - the need to quiet your mind was just to great.

"I'm sorry, Jumin," you murmured, your words slurred. Within seconds, everything was gone.

* * *

 **Author Note:** Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you like what you've read or have any critiques!


	5. Chapter 5 - Jumin Part Two

**Author note:** Wow, this was harder to write than I thought, but I decided to post both chapters at the same time just because neither Jumin or any of RFA other than MC were in the last chapter. Poor Jumin - hate making him suffer when he is already so broken inside so frequently. TW in this chapter for more references to suicide.

* * *

When Jumin entered his penthouse, a grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had been gone for a week, and couldn't wait to see you. C&R hadn't been thrilled that he had decided to leave the trip a day early, but as the executive director, he was able to get away with abusing his privileged discretion from time to time. Images flooded his mind - your cuteness while you played with your phone at night, the smile on your lips when he pulled you close, and the feeling of your satin skin under his hands. Anticipation to touch you, to hold you in his arms, had been building the whole time he'd been gone, and he was tense with excitement.

"MC," he called. "Where are you?" Usually, when he opened the door, you ran to greet him. Had you gone shopping? It was too late at night for that. Perhaps you had fallen asleep somewhere in the house or were engrossed in your reading. Jumin peered into his office and the kitchen, finding them empty. The bathroom door was open and the light was off. Strange.

Your husband pulled out his cellphone and quickly typed you a text, and immediately after sending it, called your number. When he strained his ears, he could hear vibrations coming from behind a closed door - the guest room.

"MC, what are you doing?" He asked, knocking. You didn't usually spend time in that room - not since you had become physically intimate, but perhaps you were re-decorating. When you didn't answer or respond, he felt his heart skip a beat. Jumin reached to open the doorknob, but found it locked. His lungs began to grasp at air, breaths not deep enough, but he shook his head, resolving that he would remain level-headed, even in this alarming situation.

He walked to his office and quickly retrieved the skeleton key from his desk drawer and returned to the bedroom. The lock turned, and Jumin froze from what he saw. You were lying on the bed, on your back, almost completely still. You were wearing your revealing, silky pajamas, but they didn't excite him the way that they usually did - he was too frightened from the whiteness of your skin and the blank expression on your face. You were breathing, but your chest was moving up and down languidly, differently than it usually did when he watched you sleep. Your lungs sounded labored. He heard Elizabeth 3rd softly growl at something in the hallway, and the spell of his paralysis was broken. Jumin grabbed his cellphone again, fingers shaking, and called a doctor to come to the house - immediately. He insisted that, unlike the time he had called because you tripped and skinned your knee, it was an emergency. He ran to your side and grabbed your hand, shaking you a bit.

"MC. Wake up," he said, his usually velvet voice cracking when you were unresponsive. He placed his hand on your neck, gently caressing your soft skin as he felt for a pulse, and relief hit him when he saw that it wasn't fading. Your heart was beating. Like your breaths, the pace was almost halting, but Jumin's was like a hummingbird, threatening to burst through his chest. He noticed a bottle of sleeping pills spilled open on the ground, next to an empty glass. No. This couldn't be… you wouldn't leave him without saying goodbye, right? He dialed the doctor back immediately.

"She took pills." Jumin's fear stabbed at him, and he tried to shove it back, thrusting denial and rationality at the pangs. It did little use.

"You need to get MC to the hospital, immediately. She needs to have her stomach pumped." He pocketed the bottle and took a deep breath, picking you up, bridal style, and holding you tightly as he pressed the button on his pager to call for Driver Kim. Normally, Jumin would never have wanted anyone else to see you dressed like this, but he was too worried for your safety. He ran to the elevator, ramming his finger on the down button while keeping an arm wrapped around you so that you wouldn't fall. He tapped his feet anxiously and looked back at you, but your eyes were closed, and you showed no sign of response. Jumin had never expected to see his Princess look like this - empty. Expressionless. God, this couldn't be the last expression he would ever see on your face. Jumin felt he would die without seeing another smile on your pink lips or another rose blush on your soft cheeks. The elevator couldn't move quickly enough, and he squeezed you tightly as his heart raced.

"MC," he pleaded, looking down at you. "You can't leave me. Please, be okay." When he got in the car, Driver Kim looked horrified to see your condition, and started speeding to the hospital the moment the words left Jumin's mouth.

"Sir, you need to go to the waiting room." The ride had passed in a flash, and Jumin had just had to flash his C&R badge to ensure that you were treated first. This was probably deeply unethical, but Jumin's priority was you above all else. The lighting in the building cast an ugly light, and the hospital was hectic. Nurses and doctors scurried around to patients and Jumin cringed when he heard the occasional cry, although he couldn't be sure if they came from medical pain or emotional sorrow. He clenched his fist, praying to god and anything else that he wouldn't experience the latter that night. A piece of him shattered when he had carried you into the bathroom so that he could change you into your hospital gown. He clutched his pajamas to his chest, reeling with gratefulness that they, and your body, were still warm.

"No. I'm her husband. I'll not go anywhere."

"It's not customary to have someone present while someone's stomach is pumped, Sir…" The doctor was annoyed, but Jumin couldn't be bothered by petty concerns when his princess was passed out on a hospital bed.

"You think I care about that? What do you need?" The doctor stared at him blankly. "What is it? A new wing on this hospital. Research funds? A promotion? Talk-time on god damn Doctor Phil? I'll make it happen. You make sure she wakes up and don't let anyone try to make me leave." The doctor sighed as he looked at your husband, but he knew from the determination in his eyes that Jumin wouldn't be reasoned out of this, so he grudgingly acquiesced. Your husband squeezed your hand as the man gently pushed the tube down your throat, flinching at your lack of response.

As he waited for you to wake, he tried to puzzle through what had happened. There was only one explanation - you didn't use drugs recreationally, so you must have done this to yourself intentionally. He peered back into his mind, remembering every moment and touch you had shared, looking for anything that could explain to him why this had happened. But he couldn't find anything - not a distant glance, an apathetic caress, or even a mild expression of discontent with him. He had given you everything that you could materially want, but he had also let you hold Elizabeth the 3rd - a privilege he granted to nearly no other, and more importantly, given you all of him. You knew everything - every secret he had ever held, every bit of his love, and every inch of his body. Jumin had always thought that he could say the same of you. His stomach ached in regret and anxiety. What more could you want?

* * *

 **Author note:** thanks so much for reading! I know that Doctor Phil doesn't air in South Korea, but I figured that he was a well known enough public figure that it would get the intention across for anyone reading! Please leave a review of what you've read. The rest of the story is undecided, and so is your/MC's fate. Should she wake up?


	6. Chapter 6 - Jumin Part Three

**Author Note:** Thanks for all those who have read/favorited in between chapters, and to kaitlynscooter and Mercedes1312 for their reviews!

* * *

Your eyes blinked open to fluorescent lights, and a few tears trickled down your face. Your throat burned, and there was something cutting into the top of your hand. As you looked around frantically - was this a hospital? You saw your husband sitting in a chair across the room, arms wrapped around his chest. It was a strange look for him - vulnerable. In that moment, he wasn't Jumin Han, strong and even ruthless corporate heir. He was like any other person in the hospital, waiting anxiously for their lover to wake up. Seeing him so fragile made you feel like you had been doused in ice water.

"J-Jumin," you coughed, more tears spilling over your cheeks from the stinging pangs in your vocal chords.

"MC?" He gasped, running across the room to you, taking your free hand in his. He sighed in relief and leaned down to kiss you softly on the forehead and then on the lips. You nodded and squeezed his hand back.

"Why am I here?"

"I found you… you were asleep in the guest room, and you wouldn't wake up." You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to remember what had happened that day. The sound of a fight you had over the phone with your parents flickered through your ears, and so did the desperation in your heart as you swallowed more than three times the safe sleeping pill dose.

"That wouldn't have killed me," you whimpered. "I just needed to turn things off." Jumin looked away, his face ashen.

"Why didn't you call me? If you felt that way? And how do you know if it could have killed you? Experimenting with pills is…" He paused, seeming lost for words - not because there weren't enough words to explain how he felt, and why this was wrong. There were too many.

"This isn't the first time I've done this."

"What?!" You could see his mind racing as his brow furrowed and his eyes flicked around, looking at you and down at himself. You tried not to picture the ball of yarn in his mind, tangling again, as he ached from the turmoil of what had happened. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, closing his eyes in agony. His fingers were trembling.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, biting your lip. "I t-tried to stop when we got together. I really did. But every now and again, things just became too heavy for me. I needed to make it disappear. Make everything… I didn't realize that you would be back so early. You weren't supposed to see me like that."

"You wanted. Everything. To disappear?"

"Huh?"

"Us? Elizabeth? RFA?" His voice broke. "I can't imagine… how much you must be suffering to want all of that - all that is good in my life, to go away." "

"Fuck, Jumin - it's not like that. This is personal. God, I feel so guilty."

"Don't apologize to me," he said, sounding horrified. "You should be thinking of yourself. Not how this impacts me. But MC… Why wouldn't you talk to me when you felt like that? I would do anything for you. Whatever it took to make you feel safe again."

"I didn't want to bother you at work. I don't want to be burden." His brow furrowed in frustration.

"Have I really made you feel that way?" Your hand shook, even in his strong grasp, and he looked so much younger - defenseless and lost. Your heart ached from seeing him like that, and guilt started to suffocate you. A gray haze appeared clouded your vision as you slowly processed all of the repercussions. How long would it take for Jumin to feel safe again? It had been ages after the hacker that he slept well, and that he felt comfortable letting you out of his sight. The fucked up parts of you couldn't be solved by Seven's keyboard, and you knew that this would implant something dark in your husband's mind which he would have to fight to weed out. He was never supposed to find out about this. It was yet something else you had ruined.

"I'm just so scared that if I bother you while you're at work, you'll realize that I'm just…" You choked back a sob. "A waste of time. Worthless. And you won't want me anymore. And I'll be all alone again."

MC," he growled. "Do I need to prove to you that I love you? Because I will."

"What do you mea-" He stopped your words in their tracks with an expression which was both frightened and frightening, the intensity of his slate eyes burning you as he pulled his smartphone out of his pocket, speed-dialing his second contact.

"Mr. Han?" You could hear Jaehee's sleepy voice on the other end.

"No, Jumin - don't bother her. Please." He ignored you.

"Hello, Assistant Kang. How do you feel about being interim director of C&R?"

"What?" Her voice was clearer, now - alert and alarmed.

"I am taking a leave of absence, starting immediately." You looked at him, shocked, and vigorously shook your head.

"Mr. Han! You can't do this without notice!"

"I am. You'll take care of it." He hung up his phone, and looked back at you, expression dark.

"Why?" You murmured. "Why did you do that?"

"I'll take off as much time as it takes. Even if I never work again, I will not leave your side until I know you are safe. I can't tolerate even a small risk of having to say goodbye to you. Not even a .00001% chance is okay with me." He gently brushed the tears off of your cheeks. "Now tell me, my love. Did something happen?" You nodded. "I can't really talk too much more," you said, voice rough. "It hurts. And can you get this off of me?" The IV in your hand was stinging more and more. Jumin nodded and paged a doctor. He gazed back at you, and gently stroked your hair. "Anything for you."

* * *

 **Author Note:** There should be at least one more chapter with Jumin, and then I'm not sure what will happen. It is partially dependent on when the V route releases/how I feel about it, and if I find inspiration to write Seven, Jaehee, or Saeran. Please review with thoughts on where I should take the story next!


	7. Chapter 7 - Jumin Part Four

**Author note:** Oh MY this chapter took me a long time to write - I was stuck for a really long time and had so much trouble making it feel right. This is the last part of Jumin's section. I thiiink I'll either be writing Seven or V next (I have some thoughts for both of them, but we'll see). Thanks to kurow91, Aldara-Nerita, and TheNobody1 for their reviews! Hearing from people makes me feel so encouraged.

* * *

When you got back to the apartment, things were tense. Jumin didn't know what to do, how to feel, or how to interact with you in this situation. Urges to keep you under lock and key and throw away all the medication he had in his house were pulsing at the forefront of his mind, but he knew that would only fix the symptom of your problems, not the cause. And if the cause wasn't fixed, he worried that, without your coping mechanisms, you would turn to more drastic measures.

"If you're having trouble sleeping, I'll give you _one_ of these. No more. And I'm keeping them locked up so only I can get them." You sighed. Of course he would react like this.

"I just want to go back to bed." Jumin stared back at you but nodded quietly.

"Wait," he said. "You should change." You glanced down at yourself and remembered that you were clothed, not in your pajamas, but in a hospital gown.

"I'm too tired to move."

"I don't want you sleeping in that," he replied, his voice firm and insistent. "But you don't have to do anything - I'll change you." Jumin walked towards your shared room, and you stumbled in your exhaustion, collapsing against the wall and trying not to slide to the floor. He returned, carrying a soft, white nightgown. "Lift your arms, princess." He smiled at you, but it was brittle. You did as he asked and he softly traced his fingers up your body, lifting the cheap fabric over your head and dropping it on the ground. His gaze was throbbing. There was so much, radiating from him and piercing into you - arousal, pain, fear, love. You often wondered how it was possible that people saw Jumin as cold and robotic. That man was like you - a hurricane inside. He placed his hands, warm to your skin, on your waist, and pulled you close, tracing his fingers delicately up down your bare back, occasionally pausing to twirl a strand of your hair. You were so numb, then, that even the familiar pangs of desire and the heat you usually felt when you brushed his skin and heard his breathing shallow, were gone. The entire incident, and the guilt you felt as a result, had drained you. You felt like a shell. Everything inside you was emptied out - hollow and cavernous, including every ounce of physical strength. You had little resistance to stand, but he was supporting you, clutching your body to his even as you felt your legs go weak. He hummed softly as he ghosted his fingers along your lower back, trailing across the waistband of your underwear. He glanced down at with a question in his eyes, but no expectation. You shook your head, and he smiled at you, and gently pressed his lips to your forehead. The way the his mouth curved on your skin almost made you feel good enough to tug at your own frown - almost, but not quite. Jumin looped one hand around your waist, and the other around your knees, pulling you into his arms so that he could walk, when you couldn't gain the strength to do so yourself.

He carried you to the bed you shared, and you nestled your head into his chest, burying your face in his shirt. Jumin was normally so... put together. But now, there were circles under his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled. The scent of his cologne had almost faded away, but you could still smell a hint on his clothes. The familiarity, and the realization that your husband was in this condition _because of your actions_ made you shiver with remorse. Jumin looked at you anxiously after gently placing you on the bed, and lifted your arms so he could slip on the nightgown. The fabric was soft, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you sunk into the mattress, curling your legs against your chest. As your husband silently left the room, sensing your desire for alone time, you faced the wall, trying to quell your racing thoughts and the burn in your throat. You did not have to look at your palms to know that you had drawn blood, squeezing them tightly to try to reduce some of the pain you were feeling. It had not worked.

You lay there, second after second, and every breath felt laborious - almost painful. Even with the medicine pumped out of your system, everything felt slightly slower - more laggy than usual, like you were moving through molasses. The minutes seemed endless. A mewing sound echoed from the kitchen, and you rolled over, glancing around for Elizabeth. Jumin had left your door open, and he was standing next to the stove, palms pressed to the counter as he leaned over, lost in thought. His magnificent silhouette cast a shadow while Elizabeth the 3rd ran around his legs, pressing her head against them. He bent down to pet her, softly running his hands across her fur, but even that didn't seem to soothe the tension which was visible in every muscle of his slender frame. As if he sensed your eyes on him, Jumin turned around to meet your gaze. The look on his face sent a sharp pain of regret through your stomach - the usual, incredibly focused, intense love was there, but it had an added layer of fear: one you had not seen since before the RFA Party. He walked into the room, and a familiar, firm hand grasped your shoulder. Jumin had sat on the bed beside you, and his breathing sounded strangely deliberate. His eyes were raking across you as though he was worried you would disappear if you weren't examined thoroughly enough.

"I made tea… for your throat." You glanced over at the bedside table and saw a mug which was one of many presents he had given you for your birthday. It would have been out of character for Jumin before he met you, not extravagant, but deeply personal - and was a testament to the way your relationship had grown. A blurry picture of Elizabeth (one he had taken) was on the side, with the caption, "I think you're purrfect."

"Thanks," you said, smiling meekly. You took the warm cup from his loving hand, and sipped it, feeling a twinge of humor. It was weak - basically hot water. It was unsurprising that Jumin didn't know how to make his own tea - that was usually your job, the personal chef's, or (regrettably) sometimes Jaehee's - but endlessly endearing. Even though the tea leaves hadn't added much in flavor, the warm water did somewhat calm the the ragged feeling, and you sighed, relaxing back into the bed. Jumin crawled beside you, burying his head in your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

"Don't leave me," he murmured. You felt your breath hitch as a sob caught in your throat, and you rolled over to face him.

"You would be better off without me."

"No!" Every muscle in his body was suddenly rigid. "No. Why would you say that? Princess, I need you. Life, before, was so lonely. I was unable to understand others and unable to be understood. Completely isolated. I can't go back to living like that."

"I'm not good enough for you… That's what my parents told me." You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for his reaction.

"They are wrong. You should ignore them," he said steadily. His tone was cool, but you could feel the upset, manifesting as tremors in his hands, threatening to overwhelm him. You could almost hear his teeth grinding.

"It's my family. How can I?" You sincerely doubted that you would ever be able to heal these wounds - years of insults and putdowns at the hands of your family had had set thought patterns that felt impossible to break. An entire childhood spent hating yourself was a burden you would always shoulder. It wasn't that family was intrinsically important to you - but they were the people you had known the longest. It was impossible to escape their influence. Once you found yourself falling down those holes, it became too much to bear. And that's why you had to turn to prescriptions to help yourself so often.

"You don't need them. I'm your family now. The RFA is. Even C&R - our employees love you. Don't the people who love you _for who you are_ mean so much more? This is a group of people who cherish you. Who value you. Especially me." The only they thought highly of you - any of them, was because they didn't know you.

"It's not just my family... tonight proves everything I've been thinking. More trouble than I'm worth. You saw a side of me that I don't like very much. I'm so ashamed... I never wanted you to know that I was so screwed up. If, after tonight, you decide you don't want to be with me anymore, I don't blame you.

"MC, when I was at my darkest - when my threads were tangled so tightly that I couldn't breathe, and I felt afraid to even let you leave my apartment, you stayed there for me, through everything. You didn't let the fact that I was struggling change your feelings for me. Why would I do that to you?"

"It's different."

"You saw a side of me... one which is dark, and not very attractive. It was something I had never shown anyone, but you didn't turn away from me. Your unhappiness isn't a character flaw, MC. I would never stop loving you because you were hurting."

"I made you worry. I... hurt you. I'm sorry." Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and Jumin exhaled deeply. His response was so... warm. So empathetic. The kinder he was to you, the worse you felt for hurting him.

"You shouldn't be sorry because of me."

"What?"

"You should be sorry for yourself. Since the first day I told you I loved you, I have had one request of you - always think of yourself first."

"I can't do that. I don't matter... I'm just... worthless. "

"No. You are not worthless." He sighed, looking away. You could see the gears turning in his mind, and your heart ached for putting him in this position. "How can I make you believe it?" He asked, almost as an afterthought.

"Do you? Believe it?" You knew his answer, but he could tell you that he loved you a million times, and you suspected that there would always be a part of you which had trouble believing it.

"MC, I'm one of the wealthiest men in this country, but I would give up every cent for you. You are worth more than anything, to me."

"I can't imagine why." He sighed.

"Don't insult my taste."

"What do you mean?"

"When you insult yourself, it's rude to me."

"I don't mean it like that."

"But it is like that. You're insulting my woman. My wife. My most loved person. Do you really believe I have such low standards? Is that what you think of me?" You shook your head, and he squeezed you a little tighter. "Then you need to think more highly of yourself. You're the one I love, and if you respect me, that means something about you as well. Don't be so unconfident." He shifted your hair out of the way and gently brushed his lips against your neck.

"I love you too," you said, warmth chipping at the ice that you had frozen around your heart as you saw the corners of his lips tug and a slight flush grace his cheeks. You didn't realize, until then, how much you'd been holding back from him. How much of yourself you had locked away. But Jumin, he was so… himself, no matter who you were, and loving you was a part of him now. Hearing him speak, you realized that your own flaws would never take away his passion or his dedication. Jumin was steadfast in his identity, and commitment was the fabric of it. No matter how imperfect you felt, that would never go away. Even if you couldn't trust yourself to be worthy, you could trust him to adore you and fight for you, every single step of the way. That wasn't enough to fix you. It wasn't enough to alleviate your mental health struggles or your trust issues. It was, however, enough to let you open up to him. At least for now.

"Then take care of yourself. Just… think about it this way. Imagine how you would feel if Elizabeth 3rd did something like that. Wouldn't it upset you?" You frowned, trying to find his angle.

"Confused. She's a brilliant cat, but I didn't realize she could open pill bottles now." He took a minute to chuckle, and the sound reminded you of a crackling fire. It's warmth wanted to pull you in.

"Not what I meant. Elizabeth 3rd is special to me and to you. It would hurt you to see her suffer. If you care about me, you wouldn't want that for her. So you certainly shouldn't do it to yourself."

"Okay," you mumbled.

"What's that, princess? I can't hear you."

"Okay," you said, voice a little louder. "It will be hard, but I'll do my best to take better care of myself. But these urges… My problems… they can't be solved by a lot of love and some logic. I wish it could. I'm just… broken."

"You aren't. You are hurting, but you aren't broken. And even if you were, I would spend every moment of my life piecing you back together. So tell me, dearest. What can I do?" You could hear a hint of frustration in his voice. Jumin was a problem solver, but unfortunately, even his brilliant mind probably couldn't work through the deep shame inside of you.

"… I don't know." He sighed deeply.

"I'll get you doctors - the best around. Therapy, if you need it. If you're scared, we can go together. I will hold your hand through every session and pull you close when you cry. I can help you. Please, let me." You nuzzled your head into his chest and then looked up at him. He gently pressed his lips to yours. When he pulled away, his gaze was magnetic and desperate. The ownership in his eyes told you that he would throw himself over a cliff for a chance to save you. "Be careful with my heart, MC. It is yours entirely. Please don't shatter it."

* * *

 **Author note:** Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you liked what you read or have any thoughts! I also would love to know if you have any ideas about where you would like the story to go next - who do you want to read?


	8. Chapter 8 - Saeran Part One

**Author note** : Extra special thanks to Alisialy for the request for writing about an MC this way, and to Polandwire for reviewing! If any of you have experiences which you would like me to write about, please leave a review/PM me! I actually find it much easier to write since I keep getting stuck coming up with my own ideas. **MAJOR TW for self harm/references to suicide and suicidal ideation in this chapter.**

* * *

 _Can't leave a mark. Can't, can't, can't._ You glanced at the razor on the rack in the shower, and gritted your teeth. Your hands were shaking. You could see yourself slipping in the bathtub, smashing your head onto the faucet or the side… blood pooling out.

"Why are you so fucked up? You're messed up for even thinking about that," you murmured for yourself. But you couldn't the image of the tub out of your head. You wanted to coat your feet in soap to make the vision come true. Because after you fell, after the pain alleviated, there would be bliss. No more of this - no more voices in your head which wouldn't be quiet, no more urges every time you saw a razor or a sharp object, which you could never indulge in. Would _never_ indulge in. And if you fell, everyone else would think it was an accident. There would be pain, for a lost loved one. There always was. But no one would blame themselves for your clumsiness. They would see a tragedy, but wouldn't see it as a personal failure, like so many people did with suicides. Like Saeyoung undoubtedly had, with what happened with Saeran, when he planned to kill himself. You had watched every second of how that broke his heart, without even coming to fruition, how V's death (although it was not truly self inflicted) had destroyed Jumin. You couldn't do that to them. And you had seen Saeyoung live on, day after day, with the light faded out of his eyes. The reason he was sad, now, when he should have been happy with Saeran, was because of what you did to him.

"Should have known better. It was your fault," you said, condemning yourself. But you were sorry. You were _so_ sorry. You wished, so frequently, that things had been different. When you fell for Saeran, despite already being with Saeyoung, you had complicated what should have been a joyous union between brothers with your confused heart. If only you had never told Saeyoung you liked him, that day in the apartment.

But there was no way you could have known. That you would fall in love, so desperately in love, with his brother. You couldn't have foreseen the light behind his eyes when you had brought him ice cream, or the way he stammered when he told you that he wanted you to visit more often, or warmth you felt when his fingers laced with yours, as he begged you to stay with him the night he couldn't stop having panic attacks - how he was desperate for you not to leave him. You had never felt more wanted, more needed. You could never have guessed the way your heart would break into a million pieces when Saeran told you he loved you. He hadn't meant it romantically, but the flush in his cheeks melted you, and you never wanted to let him go.

Saeyoung noticed immediately what was happening. He knew you both so well and could see that you were falling in love with each other, but knew that you would never tell him, to spare his feelings - if you even understood your feelings, which he doubted. So he broke up with you. When you felt like you would die, and that you could never put the pieces of your heart back together, Saeran was there, offering a shoulder to cry your eyes out on.

"Isn't this what friends are supposed to do after breakups? Bring ice cream?" He had handed you a carton with a spoon, an aching look in his eyes. When you didn't answer, he had tilted your chin up, to meet his eyes. "He's an idiot. If you loved me, I would never let you go."

When you were clumsy with sleep, having slumped into his arms, after watching a number of bad movies, you had unthinkingly pressed your lips to his. He made a strangled sound and then pushed you away.

"I'm not him. I'm not Saeyoung. Are you confused?"

"No," you whispered, pulling him close again. "I think I understand why he broke up with me."

"Because he's stupid?"

"No. Because I am."

"You aren't stu-" you shook your head and silenced his words with a kiss. It was unbearably chaste - he was entirely unresponsive, frozen. You pulled away, trying to meet his eyes, but he avoided it, looking anywhere but at you.

"I love _you,_ Saeran. I mean, I love him too. But not like this." You took his limp hand and pressed it to your chest, so that he could feel how quickly your heart was beating. His cheeks were burning, but he reached for your other hand with trembling fingers, pulling it towards him. When you rested your hand on the warm, fuzzy material of his sweater, you could feel what you knew he did - a heart, desperately in love, and hammering out of its chest. He finally met your gaze, staring at you wordlessly for a minute, and nodding softly.

"Me too. I thought I was a child to you. Invisible… I guess I was wrong. You've been looking at me, too."

"Right now, I see you more clearly than anyone else." Saeran smiled, his face warm in a way you had never seen it before, and he kissed you. His lips were hesitant, tentative as he brushed his tongue across your lips. You stilled suddenly when he reached for your sweater - he was going to see the marks on your arms, on your shoulders.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"No…" You were teary eyed. This moment should have been perfect, but all you could think about was what he would say about the welts on your body. "I'm sorry."

"Is this too soon? After what happened with him?"

"I kissed you first, Sae…" you shook your head, smiling reassuringly at him. You would do anything to prevent him from thinking your anxiety was in any way his fault, or perhaps even worse, his brother's. You let him return his hands to you, and drop the protective wool garment onto the ground. You were curled against him, in dim lighting, but you knew that in just your camisole, he would see. And you could feel the flinch in his body when he did. Saeran pulled away, staring at you.

"This is what you like?" he asked, gesturing at your arms.

"I'm clumsy," you muttered. He looked at you skeptically.

"You think I can't mark you as well as he did?"

"No! That's not… I promise, it's just because I tripped and ran into the cabinet the other day." There was wariness in his eyes, even as he let you kiss him again, and you hated yourself for it. Saeyoung had known about your self harm, without you telling him. The CCTV was a giveaway. He had almost silently acknowledged it, and told you that he would be there for you. At the time, you thought you would never enter another relationship. Never thought that you would be burdened with explaining again. But with Saeran - at some point - you would need to. And with him, it was _so_ much more complicated.

These were events which replayed in your mind each day, without fail, and each time, laced you with more guilt. Not that it was the fundamental cause - you had been hurting yourself long before you ever meet either of the Choi twins, after all. You did not delude yourself into thinking it was anything other than a death wish which attracted you to Rika's apartment that day. A mistaken kidnapping, although non-ideal, would be an easy enough explanation for your family.

Not that there was anything that had ever been easy about them. They weren't abusive - not explicitly, and they did love you, on some level… but it just wasn't the same as it was with your siblings. They were sparkly, bright. And you were sad, angsty, and sullen. You just never fit quite right with any of them - your jolly parents, your shiny siblings, even your extended family seemed perpetually happy and perfect. They all did the best to love you, but just didn't understand why you were so unhappy. They were too afraid to brave the most frightening explanations - that they were the cause, or worse, that there wasn't one, which meant it would be that much harder to stop. Not that you would ever seek treatment. Treatment meant telling people what was wrong with you, and inevitably getting stamped with the D diagnosis, which although you knew it was true, was terrifying.

But even aside from all that, you weren't an easy person to care about. The empathy which comes from the deepest love means you hurt when they do. When the person they care about hurts all the time, people give up. It was just too difficult for them, and you could hardly fault them for ignoring you, for shutting you out in favor of your golden brother and sister. You were a fuck up. Your "clumsiness" - not that they ever _really_ bought that excuse, even though they pretended to so that they could avoid facing the real issues - only augmented the problem, but it wasn't as if you could help it. Couldn't help doing what you did to yourself, but god, you wanted to stop, so badly.

And the words you said to yourself were just manifestations of what you knew they really felt. And you deserved it.

At least, as long as you could blame the way they treated you for your problems, they wouldn't be your fault. It wouldn't be an internal lack, or failure, which was something you had always suspected but deeply feared. It was all so messy. You were unhappy, they mistreated you but you still loved them, and then you blamed for things which probably weren't caused by them in the first place, and then you felt bad about it. No matter how many times you tried to think ill of them, tried to shift weight off yourself, you still cared what they thought. Meaning every time you got a cold shoulder, it still stung. After a while, you stopped seeing them, but that didn't mean they were ever out of your mind. They would always be there, another chokehold which prevented you from doing what you really wanted and saying goodbye to the rest of the world.

The Choi brothers were your family, now, and you felt far more emotional obligation to them. No, the moment you told Saeyoung you cared for him, there was no going back. You had - happily - given up any hope of bodily autonomy, any right to kill yourself. They were too fragile for it. Despite that, you still couldn't bring yourself to believe it was a mistake. For the first time, when you were with them, you were loved - _truly_ loved, and had the first flickers of pure happiness you ever had experienced. But to hold on to that, to let them keep being happy and making you happy, you had to keep hiding. You would do anything to preserve the status quo. You were not happy, existentially, but it was the closest you had ever come.

Since you became involved with Saeran, you had gotten better at biting yourself, digging your teeth into your skin in just the right way to make it look like a bruise or a scratch, rather than a love mark, and staged a number of 'accidents' involving tripping and dropping things. You covered your marks with concealer, wore lots of sweaters, and only had sex in the dark. Saeran did not ask again. You felt like the biggest liar in the world, keeping this from him, but the situation was perilous. You couldn't bear the risk of normalizing self-harm. If you did it, it would seem okay for him to do the same, and you would do anything to avoid that. Or he would flip out and think it was his fault, that he'd done something wrong. Any outcome would be destructive. Saeyoung respected your privacy, and you kept your habits under wraps.

The part that Saeyoung never knew, though, was the suicidal ideation. The planning. How you contemplated stepping front of cars, trains, every time they sped past you. The falls you planned down the stairs. Even the engine damage you could do to a car to die in the explosion. The kidnapping - that one seemed appealing at first, but the fantasy which had tempted you into RFA became ineffectual when you realized with the history of the two boys, that it would do unique harm. The most compelling was 'accidentally' eating the food you were allergic to (almonds) and letting yourself die an early death. Any of it to prevent them from knowing. Anything to prevent them from blaming themselves. It would all break their hearts, but it was comparatively survivable. Each of those acts would be better than seeing your bleeding wrists or hanging body.

"No," you reminded yourself. "You can't act on that, idiot. And you're a bad person for thinking about it, given what everyone around you has gone through."

That day, Saeran wasn't there. He did not say where he had gone, just that he would not be at the bunker today, and you shouldn't bother coming until tomorrow. Despite all your love and all you had been through, communication was not his strong suit. But you had found yourself catching a cab there, anyway. Saeyoung was at the house briefly, but left soon after, to go to a work meeting, leaving you alone. Without the two of them to distract you - Saeyoung with his prank antics, which he had picked up again, probably as a defense mechanism, not long after you had broken up, and Saeran with his endless, desperate waves of love, you were suffocating in your misery without a single moment's break. As you dressed after your shower, after letting the soap flow off your body, you raised your arm to your lips, biting into your skin. You tried to be delicate, terrified to leave a scar or an identifying mark, but felt your tension relieve more the harder you bit into your flesh. You lost yourself for a few minutes, leaving bite after bite on your arms and shoulders, covering almost every inch. It would be a while until Saeran got back. You would be gone from the house, and he wouldn't see you until tomorrow, and you would be better healed by then. You could cover it with concealer, and he would be none the wiser. Just like you wanted. You slipped into a cardigan, covering the marks. Not even you wanted to see them.

The floor creaked as you walked through the hall, opening the door to Saeran's sparsely decorated room. But you had one goal in mind: his bed. You threw yourself into the cushiony mattress and buried your face in his pillow. It smelled so much like him, and you wanted to drown in it. You could almost feel his hands on your body, your head on his chest, and it was lulling you peacefully to sleep. Little did you know that when you woke up, everything would change.

* * *

 **Author Note:** Thanks for reading! Please review if you liked or have any thoughts/requests!


End file.
